FREE VERSE Poem: butterfly’s swan, by Miasma Park

In the greenhouse, in the shed
the petals blacken that once bloomed
the weathervane has a broken coo
the garden lacks it’s nutrition
the butterflies are there, your favorite
animals, that desperately flutter and twirl
to try and replicate your performance,
though it’s dark in their cages,
the sun is out of the sky,
the sun is down on earth

It’s a ballet recital that never concludes
you twirl and you spin, shining light over all
your heels trace the steps of serendipity
your footwork tells the story of a thousand songs
and your butterflies study your every move,
and memorize your every note,
to translate into flutters, across language,
and you lock yourself in parnassus,
where they follow, seeking your company
as their final dying wish,
and you kiss them over their chipped wings

you’re the black swan, wanting arms
to nestle in, where you could swim
unapologetically and let the sun infiltrate
you, inside, instead of always extent beyond
because you’re a spectacle to be looking at
But you’re aging, in your mind, rotting,
and you want to die with beautiful things,
prisms and pools of colorless ink

It’s a sadness fluttering within the
final moments of a dying butterfly
You dance until your feet are tarnished
ballroom heels crackle and cheapen,
Your cheeks go red and yellow
From bruises years of rejection gave
You die to give your feet a rest
In a nest where your feathers can splay

Author: poetryfest

Submit your Poetry to the Festival. Three Options: 1) To post. 2) To have performed by an actor 3) To be made into a film. View all posts by poetryfest